


Hard Days Work

by Sunshineshipper



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, NSFW
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-09-23 13:22:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9659276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunshineshipper/pseuds/Sunshineshipper
Summary: There's a moment where he thinks about thanking her because this had honestly been the highlight of his day, maybe even the week, but then she raises two glasses to him and it's forgotten. He pours quickly and she waits for him to take the first sip before drinking.





	

“You look tired.”

Tired was an understatement to Rhys because the week was filled with every kind of problem that could go wrong with a company. Business deals getting canceled due to no one on Pandora trusting Atlas. Product productions slowing down. And then there's Fiona who’s made it her plan to keep herself locked up in his apartment until he returned every day. So, he’s not the least bit surprised to see her, with both feet propped up on the table while she rests against the couch, and there's an almost smug grin on her lips that makes him feel more frustrated than the entire week.

“Exhausted,” he tosses the briefcase to the ground before tugging at his tie, “Don't you get tired of staying in here?”

At first she just watches him, eyes moving between his hands and his eyes, “Why would I? You have a cozy little place. Plus you have running water,” she winks and then he realizes that her usual shirt is replaced with one of his own white buttoned up shirts. Sleeves rolled up past her elbows, a button or two undone, and he has to admit that she definitely looks better in it than he does. But it's a statement he’d never let her hear.

It didn't occur to him that she had taken a shower there until she ran her fingers through the still dampened hair, “Did you also wash your clothes, too?”

“No, but if you're offering…”

He ignores it and walks to the kitchen where he finds an opened bottle of wine sitting against his counter.

“It hasn't been opened long,” she's moving until she's right across from him and presses her palms into the counter, “I thought you'd need a little stress reliever.”

“This bottle is half empty.”

She gives a smirk, “Had to make sure it was good enough, company man.”

There's a moment where he thinks about thanking her because this had honestly been the highlight of his day, maybe even the week, but then she raises two glasses to him and it's forgotten. He pours quickly and she waits for him to take the first sip before drinking.

“No work plans for the weekend, right?” she doesn't let him see that she's staring at him, so she shifts her eyes to the floor before he glances her way.

“Nope. I never work then. I think I’d die if I did that,” he laughs as if it's a joke and she gives a small chuckle even though she was a bit worried by it. Maybe he noticed because the laughter dies down and there's a reassuring smile he gives, “What will you be doing?”

“I don't have anything to do. I was going to stay here. If that's okay with you.”

His eyebrow raises, “Are you actually asking permission to stay here after basically breaking in every day?”

“No, I was going to do it anyway.”

“Of course you were,” one more sip before he leaves the glass on the table, “I’m going to change out of this.”

She nods, pushing herself up onto the table, one knee locked over the other. There had always been something about Rhys’ apartment that made her uncomfortable. Moments like this when she was alone made that very clear. Most of the color schemes were blue or gray with occasional gold. Just what she expected from a businessman. Boring, plain, and dull enough to put you to sleep.

But then there were touches that made it cozier. Pictures of friends hanging on the walls or resting on furniture. A stack of unopened mail laying across his table. All of it was him and for whatever reason, it made her feel secure.

That's when she noticed the mirror hanging on his wall that gave her a peak into his room on the opposite side of the wall. Rhys, standing there unaware of her new revelation. She grins, but it doesn't last long when she realizes that she's staring at his bare back. Heat rises to her cheeks and she knows she needs to look away, but she can't bring herself to doing it.

The shirt he’s holding, a solid white one, is probably the one he was going to put on. And the dress pants were now replaced with what looks like sweatpants that hug tightly to his waist. She swears she can see the hem of his underwear. She finally does look away to stare into the bottom of her glass.

It was definitely a new feeling she had and she can't figure out if she likes the way her heart beats too fast. This is Rhys afterall. Except he’s not just Rhys anymore. Not to her anyway. He’s the man who lets her hang around his house all day. He’s the man who doesn't seem to mind when she takes his clothes. And he’s the man who has her desperately wanting to look back into the mirror. 

Who is he now?

“Much better.”

She can only smile lightly when he stands next to her, his hand brushing against the bare skin of her leg. The cool metal is enough to send a chill down her back.

“You hungry?” he reaches back for his glass and she can smell cologne on him.

“N-N… Not really,” it was too weak to ignore, which is why Rhys looks at her with confusion on his face.

“You sure? I can make something.”

She has to keep it normal, she doesn't want him to see how she feels, so she tries to make a joke, “You'll probably just burn the place down.

It's not amusement she sees. Instead, he looks more aggravated, “Figures. I try to be nice and you insult me. You are the most infuriating woman.”

It hurt. She wasn't going to lie. How could one simple comment make her feel so badly?

“Then, why am I here?”

That was quick to get his attention. He stares at her like she was close to tears. It was a usual expression he would give her, but only when things became too serious. Conversations like that were short because she never let him get too close to her. But she didn't want to try to stop this one.

So, she brushes her hand through his hair that was falling out of place and he's surprised. He doesn't stop her, though. Her hand trails down until it's pressed into his cheek. His hazy eyes are locked with hers, there's a warmth radiating off of him, and she wonders what he could be thinking. Another few seconds pass before she decides to pull away from him, but he stops her by grabbing her wrist. It's a surprise when he kisses her hand, her wrist, and he's leaving a trail of kisses up her arm before stopping at where the shirt begins.

“Fiona,” there's so much emotion in the word and now he’s resting both of his hands on her waist, mouth only a breath away. It's torture wondering if he’ll kiss her and it's even worse when he decides not to and lets out a sigh. But she grips at his shirt and pulls him closer crashing their lips together. He grips her hips tighter forcing a groan from her.

The kiss starts out messy because she feels strange doing this with him of all people, but his tongue runs over her bottom lip and she's quick to give him what he wants and everything falls into place. His lips are soft and rough and so very hot that she doesn't realize his hands have moved to unbutton her shirt until his hand is touching the skin of her chest.

Of course he didn't know that there wasn't anything under the shirt, so when he pulls back with his eyes shot open it's not a surprise. Suddenly his lips are trembling as if there's something he needs to say. He doesn't, though, and now he's looking at her with lust and need building up in him. His lips are quick to take hers again. This time his fingers slip over her shoulders to push the shirt down. Slowly, in the most agonizing way. She shakes her head as if giving him permission for it even though he didn't ask. The shirt falls to the table and immediately his hands are grasping her back pulling her into him and the most amazing sound escapes his throat.

“I need you.”

She doesn't answer right away because she's pulling his shirt off of him and throws it to the floor. Her fingers run over his skin, trailing over the blue part the most. He isn't the most muscular person. Somehow her mind wanders back to Vaughn and the day Rhys told her about him being more muscular than what he expected. It's almost enough to make her laugh until his hands on her cheeks bring all of her attention back to him.

“Fiona. I do need you,” for whatever reason, he’s whispering to her, “I need you to be here in the morning to give me a good luck kiss that I know you'll follow with an insult because it'll be the only thing that'll get me through the day. I need you to be here when I get off like you usually are and listen to any rant I have and pull me out of it. You're the only one who can. I… I need you to stay with me,” he doesn't say anything else. Instead, he just rests his forehead against her shoulder.

“Are you asking me to move in here?”

“Well, you practically live here now, so,” his sudden laughter makes her smile and she wraps her arms around his neck, kissing down his neck.

“One condition,” she waits for him to nod, “We get to do this every day.”


End file.
